


exlecebra

by quietmoon



Series: carbon copy princess [2]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2020-06-30 10:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietmoon/pseuds/quietmoon
Summary: Walking girl calamities and kind overdressed gentleman aside, it was a rather lovely Valentine's day in the end. Except it really, really wasn't.





	exlecebra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Momo_Cicerone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momo_Cicerone/gifts).



> _cross-posted from[ff.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11047613/1/exlecebra)_
> 
> **dedication:** i hate **momocicerone** for being adorable and my darling, and **chokecherries** for having the best one-liners ever.  
>  **notes:** it's 6am. _fuck everything._  
>  **notes2:** aka the one where edo!nalu happens through the eyes of two hopeless sidekicks, and there's just a lot of denial. probably a sequel-ish-thing to _carbon copy princess_ without any of the good stuff. ughh _how did this happen_ , this was meant to be a dorky valentine's fluff!fic. i hate myself. (never let me touch edo!gruvia again.)

_i'd give you everything i am, all my broken heartbeats  
(but only fools fall in love with shadows, darling dear)_

"You have to be kidding me. This is suicide…"

"Put on your seatbe—"

"You have to be fucking _kidding me_ —"

"Shut your mouth and put on your seatbelt, you pussy."

"Are you seriou— _ahh!_ Slow the fuck down! Hey— _OH MY GOD, SLOW DOWN!"_

* * *

Let's get one thing straight. Gray Surge has a _routine_.

It's not like he's stuck rigid in his ways, but it's fair to say that when complications arise, he's not exactly jumping out of his chair to get involved in any muddles or messes. He likes things ordered, simple, clear and clarified and transparent. If he had to describe himself objectively, he'd probably be a snow globe or something with a similar degree of implied sub-zero temperatures — and definitely something made of glass, so you could see through and know exactly what's lying within. Gray has no secrets. He's an open book, see, 'cause he's just a snow globe.

The morning comes, and Natsu shakes Gray Surge into a right little shitstorm.

All Gray can really pick out through his best friend's sobs are the words 'missing', 'Lucy', and 'road'. It's not a lot — it's nothing, really, but it's hardly like he's going to tell Natsu that when the poor guy's already this distressed; he'd probably have a heart attack — but it's enough to tell Gray that Lucy's off being reckless, Natsu's freaking out about it, Gray's going to get dragged along, and his morning routine of going shopping for scarves has been tossed out the window.

Ah, well. Worse things have happened. He lets Natsu drag him out of the guild, wailing to the high heavens, but not before he glances hurriedly around the guild once again. He's been doing it all morning, and it's bugging him because a big part of his morning routine is missing and it's still not cleared up yet.

After all, there's really no reason to leave the house before midday, before the sun's warmed up the air, other than to match his routine to hers.

It irritates him like an itch, but it's alright, really. He'll wish her a good morning later. Hopefully not _too_ later, though. He's a little worried that she hasn't arrived yet.

It's not the first time — she has late mornings like everyone else, nights she doesn't spend alone and mornings spent pretending to lie in so strangers won't stick around for breakfast. And the night before Valentine's Day is probably not one she'd want to sit in a quiet apartment for…

He doesn't like to think about it, but it's a fact, isn't it? That's who she is. He won't blame her for her loneliness. He couldn't ever do that.

When Natsu's panicked voice approaches a likeness to the keening of a dying animal, Gray reluctantly leaves thoughts of her behind for the morning to help track down his best friend's part-time lover and full-time terror.

Girls in this guild really know how to give guys a run for their money, huh? He fondly remembers that time she slept over at his house after he found her in that freezing river (although, at the time, he was probably close to having an anxiety-induced seizure, and only God knows how many cups of tea he screwed up because he was too distracted to pay attention to brewing it)—

"Graaaay, _come on_ , stop daydreaming already!"

"S-Sorry…—Aaah! Natsu, I-I understand that you're upset, but please don't blow your nose on me!"

* * *

"This is beyond ridiculous."

"Oh, stop _complaining_ ," Lucy eventually acknowledges Juvia's incessant complaints. "You'll survive one shopping trip, you shitty excuse for a best friend."

Juvia deigns not to respond to that.

They've been browsing these goddamned street-stores for what she could swear has been hours, and Lucy has yet to even come close to picking out chocolates she'd be willing to spend money on for Natsu. Not that she's admitted that it's for Natsu or anything — God forbid the blonde actually admit any of her feelings out loud.

Well. That's not always a bad thing, Juvia would concede. Some overdressed lunatics could sure learn a few lessons from her. She swears, if he so much as _looks_ at her today, she'll make a point to make chocolate just so she can pour burning liquid over his stupid shaggy hair.

"Oi, shitty best friend." Lucy's beckoning her into another bakery. "Stop day-dreaming already."

Juvia scoffs half-heartedly, and follows her into the store, eyes peeled for any and all chocolates that someone with an obsessive complex for being _nice_ would try to thrust upon her, and purse prepared to buy the shop into bankruptcy at the slightest sign of it.

* * *

"No way! He'd never want something like this!"

Juvia rolls her eyes, and moves on to the next aisle. Lucy, on the other hand, is still stuck in front of the kids' section, scrutinising car-shaped chocaltes with a glare that manages to look both dangerous and speculative.

"Shitty best friend, what do you think?"

God, does she really have to answer to that? "I've already said that he'll want anything you buy him." Pfft. Yeah, right. More like he'd be scared to _not_ accept it. And knowing Lucy, she'd take it so far that he'd be frozen to the spot with fear, and she'd interpret that as an invitation to feed him and proceed to choke him to death on disgustingly over-sweet 'goodness'.

Yet another assortment of bitter dark chocolates catches her eye. She'd never go so far as to eat something like most of the merchandise this shop has to offer, but on occasion, she will pass some gift collections that she might try, maybe. Still, nothing looks worse than buying yourself chocolates on this stupid day. Well, it's not like _no-one_ would buy chocolates for her, right? Oh! But it's not like she wants them or whatever, it's just—

"Why did I even bring you along with me?"

Juvia answers on auto-pilot. "I seem to recall asking to leave the car. Repeatedly."

"You are literally no help at all. All you're doing is staring at every second display with googly eyes, day-dreaming about what that loser might get you—"

" _Firstly_ ," she snaps immediately, "I do not daydream. I just _do_. And secondly— oh, for God's sake, I didn't even mean sex this time, what are you giggling at?"

Lucy's been distracted by a display of chilli chocolate, and an evil grin has replaced the teasing one she had a moment ago. Ahh, fuck. The poor guy can't even handle bell peppers on a bad day, and she's seriously thinking…? Juvia pities Natsu Dragion. She really does.

And she can almost hear the words before they leave the blonde's lips as she grabs a bag of spiced sweets off the shelf with vicious determination.

"… _Perfect_."

* * *

"Natsu, just to be sure, are you absolutely _positive_ you parked it here?" Gray asks for the third time, pointedly ignoring the deep tyre tracks gouged into the dirt from what he can only assume was some very violent driving.

Natsu, who's been sitting in the same spot for a good ten minutes now, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth, nods mutely, staring at the upturned dirt with round, fearful eyes.

Gray purses his lips. Right. Okay. He walks over to Natsu and prepares to kneel down. The three layers of trousers can limit mobility to a degree, but it's balancing the six sweaters that he's got to focus on. When he does finally make it to the ground (without falling this time, _yes!_ ), Gray clears his throat. He's absolutely accustomed to comforting his best friend, so this is nothing out of the norm, but he does have to be extra-careful with his words this time — it might just be Gray still sulking subconsciously about _her_ absence this morning, but Natsu seems to be a bit more sensitive today. Somehow. Gray's not entirely sure how he managed it, to be honest…

"Natsu," he begins in usual fashion, keeping his voice measured and patient, "I know you're really worried about your car and everything, but just think about it rationally. Lucy _knows_ how much it means to you, okay? I know she can be a bit…" _think quick, um, um!_ "—…over-bearing at times, but she would take care of it, right? She'll be careful. And worst comes to worst — not that it will, hey! Stop, no more crying! — we always have Levy to fix it up, right?"

Natsu just groans and huddles further into his knees.

"Hey—" Gray leans over and tries to raise an arm to pat his best friend on the shoulder. It sort of translates as a bit of a vigorous thump since he can't really bend his elbow properly. "Your car will be _fine_! Stop worrying!"

More silence. Okay, then. Gray can work with that.

They sit in companionable silence (well, on Gray's part — Natsu's still kind of sobbing…) for a few moments, but when Natsu does finally manage to mumble something in reply, it completely throws Gray. He's not entirely sure he heard that right.

"W-What?"

The pink-haired boy raises his head from his hunched-up body dejectedly. "It's not the _car_ I'm worried about, Gray."

Huh? "Uh, r-right! Yeah. 'Cause it'll be fine, Lucy's a good driver, right?"

Natsu's answering whine suggests not.

"Um…" He's trying, he really is, but for the life of him, Gray can't figure it out. "Then… what's the problem? Are you…" Gray's eyes widen in surprise. "Natsu, are you _angry_?"

Knowing him, the extra tears are probably just a result of irritation. But again, Natsu shakes his head.

"Then what is it?"

"I—" He cuts off, looking a bit sick. Gray sort of wishes they had a car to put Natsu behind the wheel of, just to make him feel a bit better, but alas, that's why they're in this situation in the first place. "It's just… Lucy's not a very… good driver. And, see, what if she— I mean, what if she has an accident or something? If Juvia distracted her while they were driving? What if—" He interrupts himself with a deep groan. "I think I'm going to be sick. Uhnn…"

A weight settles on Gray suddenly, and freezes him from the inside out. The flurry in the snow globe stops, pauses in mid-air, before slowly floating to the ground and settling in a quiet, white heap.

_She's in a car with someone who can't drive._

* * *

"Can you watch the road, please? It would be embarrassing to have 'cackling behind the wheel resulted in car crash, will be missed' on my gravestone."

Lucy just grins at her, paying no attention to the wheel, the car, or the windy road they're currently trying to traverse in one piece. Well, Juvia's trying. Lucy seems very happy to sit there and rock back and forth in manic glee, clutching the shopping bag in her lap.

Juvia is officially surrounded by crazies and psychopaths. Fucking officially.

"Lucy, seriously, I need you to watch the road—"

"Oh, _seriously?_ You know, you say that word way too much, it's not normal—"

"I don't want to be told what's normal by someone like you."

"What's that meant to mean, _huh_?"

"Get off me! Watch the damn road!"

"You shitty best friend!"

"Don't _sit_ on me—!"

The car suddenly plunges downward, freezing Juvia and Lucy in their respective cat-fight positions as they stare out the front window with wide, scared eyes. A moment that seems to transcend time passes and before they know it, the windshield hits what feels like a brick wall, and they're thrown forward in unstoppable motion.

* * *

Gray doesn't like to think about it often.

If he can help it, he won't think about it at all, really. But he isn't in the habit of denying truths to himself — yes, _honestly_. He understands reality. He sees it for what it is.

If Gray Surge really were a snow globe, then she would be the one to break him. Over and over. Throw him at walls. Shake him up until he can't tell up from down. Leave him to leak out into wooden floorboards, and let the wind carry the broken glass away.

Sometimes, it happens. It just does. Of course, by now he knows exactly how to put himself back together, and he can handle a crack or two.

But _God, it hurts._

And when he's sitting on a riverbank, trying in vain to comfort his best friend with a shard of ice in his own heart, and he sees that car hit the water, the knife that cuts him in half is a hot, hot _agony_.

* * *

When she comes to, she's pretty sure all of this has happened before at some point.

She's soaking wet, in the wrong way: river. She's drowning in wool and cotton: overdressed. And there's that _smell_ , of expensive laundry detergent and wood-smoke ('cause he's always sitting beside the fire, convinced it's winter year-round — what an imbecile): him.

She blinks her eyes open and sits up without hesitation. Other than being soaked to the skin, and the odd smudge of mud and grass, she's unharmed, which is weird enough in itself considering the trauma Lucy just put them through. She gulps as the memories flood back — ugh, even just the thought of anything _flooding_... She remembers banging on the window, feeling so desperate that her throat closed in on itself, the water leaking in and her panic attacking like a wild animal — _"I can't swim, I can't swim, Lucy!"_ — and the blood, the blood from Lucy's head where it smacked against the steering wheel.

"Lucy!" Juvia stares around her for her best friend, anxiety clawing at her lungs. " _Lucy!_ "

"Relax. She's fine."

Juvia's pretty sure she freezes on the spot, half-twisted in a mid-turn at the waist. The voice is the same, the silhouette of the shadow cast across her is right, but the words, the _tone_ , it's so... it's just so _wrong_.

When she looks up at him, he isn't looking down at her, but instead to the side. She follows his gaze instinctively.

Lucy is lying on the grass, apparently still out cold. Her head is cradled in Natsu's lap, whose gaze is transfixed on her face. His face — usually masked in worry or fear — is relaxed. His hand strokes her short hair almost absent-mindedly, like he's protecting a child. Juvia's heart clenches.

"Damn. Left the chilli chocolate in the car..." But as soon as the worry had disippated from her bones, it returns with full force and pretty much gives her whiplash. She snaps her eyes back to him. "Why are you—? Where the hell are your shirts!?"

Now he looks he in the eye, and she's taken aback. His eyes are cold. He does not smile. "On you. You'd have caught your death with cold."

When she looks down to confirm his words, she finds her hands clenching at a thick pile of jumpers. It dawns on her slowly, and then all at once with the force of a freight train: he wouldn't even take her clothes off for her. He'd rather just sit there on the riverbank on a cold February afternoon, shirtless and shivering like a child, and wait for her to wake up. Her throat feels blocked again, and her hands tremble.

"What—... the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

He sits down beside her and glares broodingly at the riverbank. Ignoring her. She throws a jumper — one of many, she's damn _stocked full_ with ammo — at his face. He rips it away from his head and tosses it back to her forcefully, so out of character, so _unlike_ him, it just makes no sense and makes her all the angrier.

"I'm fucking _talking_ to you! Hey!"

She throws some more cloth-balls at him with vicious resolve.

Eventually, after enduring many a wool-cannonball, he seems to have tired of his taciturn act. He turns his eyes to her, expression withdrawn and icy. And he _shouts._ "Do you have a death wish!?"

Juvia is so taken aback that she is speechless. _She_ is.

"Put on the damn sweaters already! You're soaking wet, you just fell in a river!" He laughs bitterly. "Again. And I had to watch you fall, knowing you can't swim, knowing you're _terrified_ of drowning, again! You went and got in a car with someone who can't even drive, putting your life in danger over and over, expecting me to just sit by and watch this and say nothing? I can't do that! I can't do it, it's too hard for me, Juvia-chan!

"W-W... Who the hell do you think you are?" She clenches her fists and rises to her feet unsteadily. "Do you think you're my father? My _friend?_ I wish I didn't even have to deal with you, you never make any _sense_! You are in no position to lecture me! My choices — my fucking _safety_ — is no goddamn concern of yours, so you can just back the fuck off. You have no right to care—"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I _do_ care—"

"You shouldn't! It's not like I want you to, _it's not like I want you_ —!"

"I know that, Juvia!"

"THEN LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Her voice is shrill, the words almost a scream, loud and angry and coupled with the shock of hearing him call her by name like that. Her cheeks are flushed with anger. His face, however, is paler than she's ever seen him. He looks _wounded_. The pain in her throat, in her chest, in her head — it won't go away, and looking at him just makes it all the worse. So she averts her gaze and watches the water of the river flow by.

"...Do you really think," Gray murmurs brokenly, all fire from earlier gone from his voice, "I don't know that you don't _want_ — _..."_ He trails off. She can't look at him. _She can't_. He tries again. "I... try _so hard_. I keep my distance. I throw everything I buy for you away. I hardly even talk to you—"

The word slips out before she can stop herself. "Liar."

"No, I'm not! I don't, not half as much as I wish I could! Nothing, compared to how much I want to. I always want to, Juvia-chan, don't you get it?"

 _She can't look at him, damn it_.

"I— I... I try to show you how I feel about you. I can't help but look at you, even though I know you hate it. But knowing that I can't look at you, and there are others who..." He sighs, deeply and raggedly, and the sound of it digs into something in the hollow of her chest. "You are _so_ beautiful. I can't help but see it, and— and I _know_ it's the same for others. I know you—..."

She turns her eyes to him. _She should not look at him._ She watches his face as she says words that are like individual knives stabbing into her flesh. "I never asked you to feel... like that."

And the look he gives her, _the way he looks at her like she is his everything_ , it destroys her and rebuilds her anew. "I know, Juvia-chan," Gray Surge tells her simply, with the smallest of smiles on his lips, "but I just can't help but need you."

* * *

He gets up, and walks away towards the guild. His skin burns with gooseflesh. He is exposed and vulnerable. He is brave. Gray Surge feels _alive_. And he leaves her behind; he loves her, he needs her, he wants her and _she knows_ , and he does not look back. Because Gray wants her like a man in a snow globe yearns for everything outside the sphere of his world. Desperately, pining for it, knowing it's forever out of reach and still begging someone to break the glass and _let him out_.

Juvia breaks him over and over and _over again_.

And he needs her for it. He does.

* * *

All she knows is that when he's walking away, his shoulders are squared and his head is held high.

To Juvia, Gray Surge is made of glass. And what she needs more, than anything, is to watch him put the pieces back together no matter how many times she shatters him on the floor. She wants to see him do it, she needs him to show her— _oh_ , but she does.

She makes a decision, and prays he will not turn around.

* * *

A balled-up sweater barely misses his head and lands in a bundle on the grass by his feet. He falters and slows down, and all of a sudden there's a trembling hand — trembling _,_ _trembling like a child_ — and she's grazing his bare back with the touch of a breeze.

He does not look back, because Gray Surge cannot begrudge his love her loneliness. Her palm presses against the cool skin of his shoulder.

The snow globe cracks.

**FIN**


End file.
